


i'll hold you as the water rushes in

by ginnyweasleys



Category: Justice League (2017)
Genre: F/M, jl spoilers, mera is part of the justice league thanks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-19
Updated: 2017-11-19
Packaged: 2019-02-04 07:36:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12766200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ginnyweasleys/pseuds/ginnyweasleys
Summary: He is not, she knows, used to having friends or a team. He spends his time wandering, hunting, protecting. He saves people and then disappears into the sea; he stops by Atlantis and leaves as quickly as he came. He doesn’t like to stay behind, never really had a reason to. ―- ArthurMera, between worlds.





	i'll hold you as the water rushes in

**Author's Note:**

> i truly only meant to write some tropey first kiss fluff after the movie but these two just had to go and be complicated. took some liberties with the atlantean monarchy because i can and the aquaman movie isn't out yet to tell me that i'm wrong. i did not brush up on my comics atlantis history before writing this so... just go with it. spoilers for justice league (2017).

**i'll hold you as the water rushes in**

so, baby, can we dance?  
oh, through an avalanche?

( _taylor swift, dancing with our hands tied)_

-:-

She doesn’t like the surface world.

The wind itches at her. It’s cold and unwelcoming, like the world of man is rejecting her. Every time she rises above the ocean, she feels the tug of it deep in her chest, trying to pull her back down under the waves. There’s nothing that can be compared to the feeling of home.

She wonders what it’s like, for him. One foot in, one foot out. He seems to like the wind of the little village he lives in, seems to like the sun when it dares to shine, and the sand beneath his feet. It feels like gravel to her. The sun glares at her, judging her and finding her wanting.

Still, she swims up, and she waits.

 

 

 

He’s still wearing the suit when he finally returns. It looks good on him, the gold and the green, the colors of his mother. His trident glints in the low afternoon sun.

Mera watches him as he walks, his gait slow and steady, swaggering with confidence. Each step is sure and certain. She doesn’t think she can walk like that, so easy in the world of man. She feels loose-footed and graceless on the beach, and she does not like lacking in grace. She doesn’t like the way the ground doesn’t give way to her, the way it stays still and doesn’t roll and churn. Doesn’t breathe, the way the ocean does.

He stops at the edge of the water and looks down at her, floating over the surface. His gaze rakes over her, just as judgmental as the sun but with a hint of a smirk lying beneath, from the points of her crown to her damp red curls and the shine of her suit clinging to her body. It feels less like he’s undressing her and more like he’s attempting to unravel her.

“Miss me?” Arthur asks, resting his trident upside down in the sand and leaning his head on it. The smirk rises to his lips and widens, making him look even sharper, even wilder.

Mera looks away, up to the sinking sun, imagines a red sky. “The world almost ended.” She says this quietly, and it amazes her how the words settle around them, drifting in the lonely winds she so hates.

“But it didn’t.” Arthur waits pointedly and, when she doesn’t say anything, adds, “You’re welcome for that.”

She cuts a glare at him. “You expect thanks for doing your responsibility? Your duty?”

He leans closer and his lips curl in a sneer. “My duty? To whom? The Atlanteans are _your_ people, princess.”

“You know that is not true.” Mera crosses her arms and stares him down. His green eyes spark in the sunlight, dangerous and piercing. She can still see the anger lurking within, the storm building in the sea.

He is terrifying. But so is the ocean, and she is not scared of that.

Arthur pulls himself up by the trident and towers above her, dark and looming like a shadow. “Maybe not. But I have—I made… friends, here. On the surface. A team, I guess—and they need me.”

He sounds almost hesitant. He is not, she knows, used to having friends or a team. He spends his time wandering, hunting, protecting. He saves people and then disappears into the sea; he stops by Atlantis and leaves as quickly as he came. He doesn’t like to stay behind, never really had a reason to.

“I am not suggesting you leave them,” Mera tells him, and pushes herself out of the ocean, landing with a splash of water on the sand. When she looks up, Arthur is sprayed wet from the blast, water droplets on his cheeks and beard. He licks his lips when she notices, his gaze turning speculative as she stands, unsteady, on the dry land.

“Then what are you suggesting?” Arthur tilts his head and adds, a little mockingly, “Your Highness?”

“The throne is yours by right, Arthur.”

“But you’ve been doing such a good job.”

His smirk is easy now, teasing. A kernel of warmth flickers inside her, a strange contrast to the bitterness of the winds and the icy chill of the rising night. She takes a step forward and stops, uneasy with how her foot sinks right into the sand.

Arthur reacts first; although she had not tripped or stumbled, he leans forward and slides an arm around her waist, holding her still. For all his strength and size and ferocity, his touch is gentle, but the warmth of it comes as a shock, straight through the scales of her suit and into her skin. She is used to the ocean’s warmth, but his is a different kind, tempered by his human blood, a crackling, flickering fire within him.

“I can stand on my own.” Her voice is a little too sharp, but Arthur only chuckles, the vibration of his chest ringing through her body from how close he is, and pulls away.

“I would never doubt you.” Still mocking. “You’re not used to the land, are you?”

Mera twists her hand through her hair, wringing out the dampness. She hates this too, how the water sinks in it when she’s above sea, how it curls and frizzes and slicks down her shoulders. How the weight of the water settles in her bones and tries to pull her back to the sea.

“We can’t all be half human,” she says, looking away to the settlement just beyond the beach, the way the rocks slope up the hill, the whistling of the winds through the bare trees. The land he loves so much, despite his heritage.

She’s so busy cataloguing it, all the ways their cities contrast with her kingdom, she almost doesn’t notice when Arthur’s hand comes up again, this time to wrap around hers and still her combing of her hair.

“That won’t help,” he tells her, solemn and maybe a little teasing, and pries her hand away. He tugs on a curl and it straightens under his fingers. The warmth of them seems to dry it faster. “Why don’t we get you a drink? And…” He glances down at his own outfit, matching hers, both so obviously otherworldly. “Maybe some new clothes?”

 

 

 

She likes the dress, although she has no idea where he got it. He tosses the clothes to her and points, a little awkwardly, at the wooden door leading to his bedroom, where she slips inside to change.

Behind the door, she can hear him rustling around, peeling off his suit and putting on his human clothes. Mera looks down at what he’s given her and runs her fingers through the soft green fabric of the dress. He’d even picked the right color, the one that matches her Atlantean garb.

Carefully, she slides out of the suit and into the dress and tights. Both are sturdy and warm, offering comfort from the chill just outside his bedroom windows. She pulls on the brown leather jacket, which is several sizes too large for her and dwarfs her frame, and smells a little like him—saltwater and beer and something sharp and tangy beneath it.

His room is rickety and old, his entire little cabin barely holding together. Still, there’s a sense of hominess to it, in the worn blankets and the chipped wood, the way the window doesn’t close all the way. Outside the room, she can hear him light a fire, and it warms the air all the way down into her bones.

Mera steps outside his bedroom and he turns to look at her. She smooths down the skirt of the dress, feeling a little out of her own skin in the human clothes. The fabric flutters over her skin.

Arthur quirks an eyebrow, his gaze appreciative as he takes her in. “It suits you.”

“Even the jacket?” Her voice is a touch dry as she slips her hands into the deep pockets. Arthur coughs and looks away.

“Didn’t have any in your size,” he says gruffly, and stabs a stick at the fire to stoke it. It flares higher at the touch. Mera watches the flames flicker and feels them somehow mirrored in her belly, wonders how a prince of the ocean can feel so at home among the fires of man.

She sits down at his creaking kitchen table and watches as he fixes her a drink, a thick amber liquid in a large glass mug. He pushes it over to her and she catches it in her hands, peering down curiously into the depths of it.

“Where’d you get the dress?” She takes a tentative sip of the liquid. It burns going down her throat, but he’s staring at her while she drinks, so she tries not to let her distaste show on her face.

“Stole it.” His face splits into a smirk when Mera looks at him in outrage. “I’m _kidding_. I paid for it. They have shops down in the main village. The girl working there thought I had a girlfriend.” He glances at her significantly and adds, “She didn’t seem too happy about it.”

“She has nothing to be jealous of,” Mera says, maybe a bit too sharply.

Arthur snorts. “Don’t worry, princess, I’m not trying to put the moves on you.”

“Like you have moves,” she teases, and to her surprise, he grins at her. “Tell me about these humans. Your… friends.”

“Well.” Arthur takes a gulp of his own glass. “Would you believe they’re not all human?”

 

 

 

He brings her to one of the humans, though, the most painfully human of them all: Bruce Wayne, the Batman. Immediately, she catalogues him—no enhanced abilities, no special powers, no magic. Nothing. But she can tell he’s good in a fight.

“And this is… your girlfriend?” Bruce asks, arms crossed, eyebrows raised in Arthur’s direction. He has a distinct strength about him, in the set of his shoulders and the way he moves. Staunch, like a soldier.

“No,” Arthur grumbles. “She… runs my kingdom.”

“Oh, is it your kingdom now?” Mera runs a hand over the schematics lying on one of Bruce’s tables and hides her smile.

When she looks at him, Arthur is rolling his eyes. “ _Your_ kingdom… your majesty.”

Bruce turns to her, a hint of surprise in his gaze. “You’re the queen of Atlantis?”

“I am…” Mera pauses, folding her hands in front of her. “The queen regent.” She looks significantly at Arthur, who is ignoring both of them in favor of admiring a prototype of the Batman suit, and Bruce glances between them and makes a noise of understanding.

“I suppose he’s the child you’re ruling in place of, then?”

“I’m not a child,” Arthur mutters.

“His mother was my mentor,” Mera explains to Bruce. “Arthur wanted no part of our kingdom, so the ruling falls to me, until he deigns to join us underwater and take his throne.”

“And if he does… deign to join you,” Bruce says, now aimed at Arthur, “would you leave our team?”

Arthur saunters over, smirking at him. “Aw, I didn’t realize you’d miss me, Bruce.”

“I wouldn’t,” says Bruce flatly, although not, she thinks, completely honestly. “Perhaps Mera might join us in your place. She can do everything you can do, right?”

Mera smiles. “And better.”

“Very funny.” Arthur pokes her in the side and grins when she sways over. “Still can’t stand properly.”

“You can’t swim properly,” she shoots back.

Arthur presses a hand to his heart. “Ouch.”

Bruce looks between the two of them. “Are you sure she’s not your girlfriend?”

 

 

 

“You sure you don’t wanna meet the others?” he asks as they walk along the edge of the beach, the water licking at their feet. Beyond the seaside village, the ocean roars and churns, calling to her, singing her home.

“Some day,” she tells him, unlacing her boots. Her Atlantean suit sparkles in the sand. “But I have to get back to our people.”

“You always say that.” Arthur’s gaze is fixed upon her, bright green and searching. She does not meet it. “Our people.”

“Are they not?” Mera stands, barefoot, and takes off the too-large jacket from around her shoulders, holding it out to him. He takes it a little bemusedly. “You were born of Atlantis’ royal blood. Where you live doesn’t change that.”

His mouth sets in a hard line. “I didn’t ask to be…”

“I know,” she says simply. They stare at each other a moment, the air electrifying around them, and then she says, “Turn around.”

Arthur blinks at her. “What?”

Mera lifts up her suit from the sand. “Unless you want to watch me change?”

He turns around. “You didn’t have to do this in public.”

“There’s nobody here,” she points out, sliding her tights off and shivering in the sudden cold. “You’re the only one of the humans who comes this far out towards the sea.”

“Yes, well, I suppose I’m special that way.” He goes quiet as she struggles with the zipper on the back of the dress, then asks lightly, “Want some help?”

Mera makes a face at the back of his head. “Yes,” she admits, with some reluctance. “I don’t understand human clothes.”

Arthur chuckles as he turns again and walks towards her, motioning for her to turn her back to him. “Me neither. Shirts are so constrictive.”

His fingers find and conquer the zipper easily, tugging it down and loosening the dress as he goes. His thumb brushes the bare skin of her back; when she gathers the dress to her chest and turns around to look at him, he looks distinctly flustered.

“Thank you,” she says, and he sketches her a bow before looking away again. She stands there a moment, watching the way his back muscles ripple, the black tattoos gleaming in the soft sunlight. He cuts a handsome figure, tall and godlike by the sea.

“Why won’t you come home?” Mera asks quietly, stepping out of the dress and pulling her suit on. For a long moment, Arthur does not answer.

Then he says, “I have no home,” and his face half-turns over his shoulder to look at her. His green eyes are soul-shattering; even though she’s covered herself up with the suit, she still feels naked, like his gaze has pierced her armor and undone all her shields.

“You are a fool, Arthur Curry,” she tells him, and he snorts, shaking his head. “Most people are only lucky enough to have one home in their lifetimes.”

He watches as she steps back into the ocean, watches as she sinks down below the churning waves. His gaze is heavy on her as she swims away, and her suit itches at her like her body misses the dress he gave her.

 

 

 

Barely a week later, she finds him in the throne room, studying the statue of his mother. He’s wearing his suit again; she thinks he rather likes it. His trident hangs idly by his side. The water around him shimmers, the waves ebbing and flowing to the movements of his body.

Mera waves her hand and a bubble expands around them, roping them in together. Arthur smirks and flicks his wrist and her bubble presses in on all sides until she’s standing right in front of them, not touching at any point, but close enough that she can see each brown-gold curl of his hair as it falls into his face.

“Did you want something?” she demands.

Arthur lets the bubble inflate a little, but she doesn’t take the extra space he gives her, staring up into those whirlpool eyes of his. “Just wanted to see you,” he says, his voice light and casual, lit up with a smirk.

Mera rolls her eyes and turns to go. Arthur catches her wrist before she can.

“Okay, look, Diana wants to meet you. And… I thought I’d… come check out the kingdom, while I was at it.”

She tilts her head. “Diana?”

“Amazonian princess,” he says with a shrug. “They call her Wonder Woman. She’s pretty cool. I mean, she’s crazy powerful.”

“The Amazons generally are,” Mera points out, watching him thoughtfully. “You seem smitten.”

Arthur releases her wrist like she’s burned him. “I like powerful woman,” he admits, and his gaze lingers on her crown and her lips. Mera takes a step back and the bubble bends backwards with her will.

“It might not be wise to instigate another war with the Amazons,” she says, raising her eyebrows. “If you were to bed her and then break her heart. Or vice versa.”

“Please,” Arthur scoffs. “Don’t worry about me, I’m a big boy. I can handle a pretty woman not liking me back.”

“Does she not?” Mera asks carefully.

Arthur’s face twists, but he seems more amused than anything. “I think she likes Bruce.”

“Ah. Well…” Mera presses a hand to the walls of the bubble and watches it flex around her. “I suppose the Amazons have never had great taste in men. For obvious reasons.”

Arthur catches her hand again, this time before she can evaporate the bubble. “Did you just pay me a compliment?”

“Don’t get used to it,” she advises. His fingers are soft on her palm, his thumb tracing a line over her wrist.

He smirks, and a strange warmth runs through her bones at how familiar the expression is now. “Oh, not to worry, princess,” he says, leaning close so she can feel his breath in the air between them. “Just the one will last me a lifetime, I’m sure.”

 

 

 

She takes him to one of the marketplaces first, because she has some business to conduct and maybe because she wants him to see more of the kingdom besides the palace and the surrounding city, to see and appreciate how his people live their lives. When she gets back from the shop owner she’d had to speak to, he’s staring at a booth full of seashell charms picked from the surface, listening to an old Atlantean lady tell him about how they’re good luck for their people and bad luck for the surface-dwellers.

“Enjoying yourself?” Mera asks, smiling when he jumps and turns to look at her. He looks so at home here, the water swirling in gentle waves around him, his green and gold armor glinting in the light. He’s got a hand curled tight around his trident, as if it gives him a lifeline.

“I was just thinking about buying a charm,” he says casually, gesturing to the old lady, who looks delighted.

“With what money?”

Arthur pauses. “Uh… Bruce gave me a credit card.”

He looks a little embarrassed when she rolls her eyes and steps past him, withdrawing two gold coins and offering them to the saleslady.

“Go ahead.” Mera gestures at the first row of charms laid out on the table. “Pick one.”

“I…” Arthur glances at the charms then at her. “What’s your favorite?”

“Must I do everything for you?” But she runs her hands over the charms and stops on one she likes anyway, a blue shell carved in the shape of the sun, tied into a leather bracelet. Arthur watches as she picks it up to check it for scuff marks, and then she moves over to him and takes his hand.

“I was gonna buy one for you, actually,” he murmurs, but he doesn’t protest as she slides the bracelet onto his wrist, where it settles and gleams against the gold plating of his suit.

“You can pay me back next time,” she suggests, and looks up to find his face awfully close, his lips twisting in a smile.

“What were you doing?” he asks as they begin to walk, passing the people of the city around them. The water weaves and whirls at their backs. “With that other shop?”

“Taxes.” Mera sighs and Arthur glances at her in mild surprise. “You didn’t think it was easy running a kingdom, did you? The structure needs constant maintenance. Not all of it is protecting the mother box from Steppenwolf, most of it is terribly boring.”

“You seem to be doing a good job, though,” Arthur notes, but there’s a hint of apology in his green eyes when his gaze darts to her then away again.

“They respect me.” Mera shakes her head, red hair fluttering around her face. “They would respect you more.”

“See, that’s stupid,” Arthur says hotly. “Why does birthright matter more than who would actually do the job well? You’re clearly better at it than I would be.”

Mera laughs. “Perhaps, but you have not given yourself a fair shake. And do not think I would just disappear into the background should you choose to take the throne. We have a court, advisors and scholars, and I would still be working there if you were king.”

“Good to know.” He glances sidelong at her again, contemplative. “But don’t you think this arrangement works just as well? You as queen and me as… the wayward prince.”

Mera looks up at him, at the slightly rueful set to his mouth even as he smirks. “Is that how you consider yourself? Not as the Aquaman, protector of the oceans, warrior of justice?”

“That’s a big longwinded for me.”

“Sorry, would you prefer Prince Arthur of the Kingdom of Atlantis, son of Queen Atlanna and Thomas Curry—”

Arthur nudges his shoulder into hers and she breaks off with a laugh. “You’ve quite the sense of humor for being the queen of the oceans.” His voice, she notices, has a hint of approval, and more than that, genuine fondness beneath it. “Wouldn’t have guessed.”

“You think so little of me?”

“No, I…” Arthur swallows. “I always thought you didn’t like me.”

Mera presses her lips together to hide a smile. “I don’t.”

 

 

 

He gives her new clothes on the surface, a white shirt and dark jeans and a green coat that actually fits her properly this time. Her boots, she’s pleased to notice, are still sitting at his house, untouched and waiting for her.

“Diana works for museums,” he explains to her. “She’s in Europe right now so… Bruce sent a plane.”

“How kind of him.” Mera checks her appearance in the mirror, trying to tame her hair. It’s strange having it be completely dry, curling down her back. “Do I not need identification papers or anything? I know humans care deeply about that sort of thing.”

“Nah.” Arthur grins at her. “Bruce is rich, so we’re good. Do you need something… for your hair?”

“Do you have something?” she asks, raising her eyebrows at him in the mirror.

Arthur shrugs and comes closer. “I might. Hold still.”

Before she can ask what his plan is, he’s running a hand through her hair, combing out errant tangles in the red curls and gathering it up at the top of her head. His hands are large but gentle, never snagging or pulling too hard, and then he rolls a band off his wrist and ties it around her hair in a high ponytail. Mera stays still, watching as he tightens the tail and lets it hang down, the tip of it brushing her shoulder blades.

“Better?” he asks, and his hand presses soft against her back for the barest instant before he moves it away.

“You seem to know a lot about women’s fashion,” she says, twining a hand in the ponytail experimentally. It spins around her fingers, the curls still thick but somehow more manageable now that he’s got them tied up.

“I read up on it.” Arthur shoots her a grin. “For you.”

She doesn’t know how to react to that, but he saves her the trouble by picking up their bags and opening the door, gesturing for her to go first with a mock-bow of chivalry. Outside, they have to walk a few miles before they get to the private plane that says ‘Wayne Industries’ on the side of it.

“Hope you like first class,” Arthur says as he leads her into the plane. She has no idea what ‘first class’ means but it apparently entails leather couches, a bar stocked with bottles of alcohol, and two large television screens for both of them.

“He really does like to throw his money around, doesn’t he?” Mera takes a seat and pulls out a magazine from a stack on the table in front of her. Arthur snags a bottle of liquor from the bar before settling opposite her.

“He doesn’t even think about it, he just goes ‘I’m gonna buy that’,” Arthur says with a snort. “Not that I’m complaining. He gives us a lot of free shit.”

Mera peruses the magazine for a moment before she notices him staring at her. “What?”

“Nothing.” Arthur’s gaze slides away, green as sea glass. “You look good, you know… in human clothes.”

She sets the magazine down and ignores the burst of warmth inside her. “Are you suggesting I don’t look good in Atlantean clothes?”

Arthur’s mouth twists like he’s trying to hide a laugh. “I would never dare.”

Mera smiles and he pours her a glass of the alcohol as the plane starts to lift off. “Tell me about this Wonder Woman,” she says, accepting the glass and watching the white liquid in it shake from the force of the takeoff. “You said she was the princess of the Amazons?”

“Diana,” he says. “Daughter of Hippolyta. Ever met them?”

“Once or twice, for peace talks,” Mera admits. “I’m the one who has to go, because they don’t like speaking with men. Hippolyta is a formidable queen. I have no doubt her daughter is a warrior in her own right.”

“Oh, yeah, she could kick anyone’s ass.” Arthur’s voice turns admiring as he speaks. “Kicked Bruce’s ass, too. But she’s… she’s good to people, you know? She and Superman… they’re the only ones of us that are really heroes. Really _good_ heroes.”

Mera takes a sip of the liquid; it tastes light and fruity. Not something she’d thought he would like. “You don’t consider yourself a hero?”

Arthur meets her gaze again, his eyes boring into her. “I mean, I’m trying.”

“I know you don’t like to hear this,” she says. “But I think your mother would be proud.”

Arthur stares at her for a long moment. Something flickers in his eyes, something like hurt and gratefulness and anger all at once. He doesn’t say anything, although his mouth opens like he wants to. She watches the flash of his tongue against his teeth and how he retreats when he realizes he doesn’t have a reply.

In the hard sunlight gleaming through the windows, he looks more lost than she’s ever seen him. He bows his head and the light shines over his temple, where a crown might be.

 

 

 

Diana is warm and gracious and beautiful, everything she expects from the way Arthur talks about her. She stands with power, tall and proud, but she smiles when she sees the two of them enter her office, like they’re honored guests. Truly a princess of the Amazons, Mera thinks.

“It’s lovely to meet you,” Diana tells her. “Arthur has told us… absolutely nothing.”

She sends a chiding look at Arthur, who meets it mulishly. Mera bites back a laugh.

“You didn’t need to know,” Arthur says. “Diana, Mera. Mera, Diana. You’re both princesses, you should get along.”

Diana arches a brow. “I had heard you were _queen_ of Atlantis,” she says to Mera.

“Acting queen,” Mera agrees. “That one over there refuses the throne.”

“How gallant of you, Arthur,” says Diana, voice dry, and winks at Mera. “Making a woman do all your work for you.”

Mera decides she likes her, the Amazonian-Atlantean rivalry be damned. Arthur rolls his eyes dramatically and heads out of the office, tossing, “Why don’t you two ladies just go ahead and make fun of me for an hour, yeah?” over his shoulder.

“He makes it so easy,” Diana sighs, picking up her coat. “I thought we’d go out to lunch. How are things in Atlantis?”

“They could be better,” Mera admits, following her out. “But they could also be worse. The people are very shaken that Steppenwolf managed to steal the mother box and almost bring the Unity upon us. I imagine the Amazons are in much the same state.”

Diana smiles sadly. “I imagine so as well. But I am forbidden from returning.”

“Forbidden from returning home?” Mera asks with a burst of horror. She doesn’t think she could survive in the world of man for so long, never being able to go back to Atlantis. “That must be awful.”

“It’s not so bad,” Diana says with a shrug. “I have made a life here. Friends, teammates… but I must say, nothing makes you miss home so much as knowing you will never see it again.”

Mera tilts her head. “Perhaps I ought to forbid Arthur from returning to Atlantis as often as he does. He might learn to appreciate his kingdom more.”

Diana chuckles. “I don’t think he would take too kindly to that.” She glances at Mera and her gaze is warm, but sharp. “He would miss you too much.”

“He would—what?”

Diana’s smile turns secretive. “You haven’t noticed? The way he looks at you…”

“He doesn’t,” Mera protests, heat rising in her chest. “He’s only ever been resentful. I remind him of the people—the queen, who abandoned him.”

“Do you think he just goes around introducing all the pretty girls he knows to his friends?” Diana raises her eyebrows. “He means for you to be a part of our team, our ally in the seas when he is on land. He would hardly do that if he didn’t trust you.”

“Trust is something else,” Mera says. “I am the queen of Atlantis, an alliance is only natural. What you are suggesting is something else.”

“What I am _suggesting_ ,” says Diana kindly, as they leave the office building and the cool fresh air bites at their faces, “is that he might have feelings for you that are entirely unrelated to the alliance between Earth and Atlantis. If you do not feel the same, there is no reason to dwell on it, is there?”

Mera does dwell on it, though. And when Arthur stops by the café to pick them up, she has to wonder if Diana’s gotten in her head or if he really does look at her for a beat too long.

 

 

 

They go to Bruce’s place to train, back in America. “The headquarters are still being put together,” Arthur tells her as they head to the training rooms. “Everyone has their own places, but we mostly hang out here for now.”

“It’s impressive,” Mera admits, spinning in a circle to take in the wide expanse of the room, the cool blue walls covered with leather pads, the punching bags hanging from the ceiling. “Of course, nothing compared to the facilities in Atlantis, but…”

“No need to brag.” Arthur grins at her and sheds his jacket. “Wanna have a go while we wait for the others? I think Bruce and Diana are running some schematics down in the cave, so we’re on our own for a while.”

She hesitates. “No trident.”

Obligingly, he lifts his hands. “Sparring only. Don’t mistake me for a cheater, your majesty.”

“I would never.” Mera pulls off her jacket and turns to face him, watching his eyes alight. “But you do have an unfair advantage.”

“Which is what?”

“You’re used to the land.”

As he processes this, she strikes first, and in his surprise, she lands a punch to his side before he quickly recovers and dodges her next blow. His hand comes up, wraps around her arm and twists it to one side, and she has to kick at him to get free.

Even with his advantage, she does know how to hold her own. She’s been on land often enough recently that her feet don’t slip and she can move with relative ease, even as fast as they’re going. He blocks all her shots, though, and she only lands one more punch at his chest before he backs her into the wall and presses an arm to her throat, holding her there.

“Do you yield?”

His voice is husky as he leans down, green eyes too bright in the soft silver lighting of the room. Despite his strength, his arm is light enough against her skin that she could shake him off easily, if she wanted to. His hair falls into his face and she wonders what he’s seeing as he stares at her, her ponytail lopsided and her breaths coming hard.

Mera tilts her chin up. “I yield,” she says, and though the pressure of his arm eases against her throat, he doesn’t move away. She doesn’t ask him to. His gaze flickers from her eyes down to her mouth; his tongue darts out to wet his lips. With the angle of her head, all he has to do is lean down just a little to close the gap—

“Yo, Arthur, are you—oh, shit, sorry, am I interrupting something?”

Arthur jerks away from her as if being pulled. She turns her gaze to see a boy, barely of age in human terms, standing at the entranceway to the training room. He has dark hair and sharp cheekbones and an electric buzz in the air around him.

“Barry,” announces Arthur, clearing his throat. He glances quickly at Mera, then away again. “Nope, come on in. We were just… training.”

“Training,” Barry repeats with no small amount of disbelief. “Sorry… do we know her? Is she, like, you know… one of us?” He lowers his voice, as if this will stop her from overhearing when they’re in the same room.

Arthur half-smiles. “Yes, this is Mera. She’s the queen of Atlantis. I brought her to the surface to meet you guys.”

“Queen of Atlantis?” Barry repeats, wide-eyed. She manages a smile at him. “Whoa, that’s… that’s so cool. Like, all of Atlantis? Wait, does that make you his… uh, wife?”

“No,” says Mera quickly, at the same time as Arthur says, “Shut up, Barry.”

“Sorry.” Barry winces. “I just assumed… you said you were royalty down there.”

“He is,” Mera says, as Arthur looks away. “But we’re not… anything. You must be the Flash?”

“Oh! Yes, that’s me.” Barry beams at her and holds out a hand to shake. “Barry Allen. Struck by lightning. Now I run really fast. I can’t believe he’s told you about us but he never mentioned _you_.”

“Did he not?” Mera sends Arthur a sidelong glance and teases, “Perhaps he does not find me an interesting enough subject matter.”

Arthur opens his mouth to protest.

“That’s crazy,” Barry says immediately, before he can. “You’re the _queen_ of _Atlantis_ and also, like, the most gorgeous woman ever—I mean, well, Diana’s pretty too—I’ll shut up now.”

Mera blinks at him then looks at Arthur, who’s glaring a hole into Barry’s head. “I appreciate it,” she tells Barry, hiding a smile. “Shall we go down, then, if we’re done training?”

Arthur grunts. Mera steps past both of them to walk out first, and behind her, she hears Arthur mutter to Barry, “Didn’t know you liked redheads, Allen.”

“What, and you don’t?” Barry retorts. Arthur doesn’t answer.

 

 

 

 

She meets the rest of the team that day down in the Batcave, all of them filtering in and sprawling about in the cavernous depths of Bruce’s lair. Victor Stone is already there, working with Diana and Bruce on computer trackers, and he lifts his head to look at her appraisingly when she enters.

“Queen Mera,” he greets, his red eye flashing. She gets the acute sensation of being scanned. “Nice to meet you.”

“And you,” she says, inclining her head. “You are the Cyborg, then?”

“That’s what they’re calling me,” Victor agrees. “But if you’re not afraid of me, you can call me Victor.”

“Few things scare you when you live in the ocean.”

He smiles. “Really? That’s weird, ‘cause your boy Arthur over there was pretty terrified when we went to face Steppenwolf.”

Arthur jabs his elbow at Victor, although this does nothing to him since his sides are metal. Mera purses her lips to try not to laugh.

“She doesn’t need to know that,” Arthur hisses at Victor, who only chuckles and swings away from the two of them before Arthur can try to harm his circuitry.

“Oh, I think I do,” Mera says, and he turns a wounded look to her. “I wouldn’t have thought anything scared you.”

“Yeah, well.” Arthur shoves his hands in his jacket pockets and glances away. “Maybe some things do.”

It feels like an admission of something, but she’s not sure what. Mera almost steps forward to make him meet her gaze, but she’s interrupted by the last of their team flying down into the room.

“Always gotta make an entrance,” Arthur mutters.

Clark Kent hands out a platter of coffees, each drink different and specially made for the others. He gets to her and Arthur and stops short while Arthur takes his drink.

“My apologies, I didn’t know we had a visitor,” he says, glancing at Arthur, who shrugs at him.

“Not to worry, I don’t drink coffee,” Mera assures him. “I’m Mera of Atlantis.”

“Kal-El of Krypton,” he says without missing a beat, and offers her his hand. “But you can call me Clark.”

“Pleasure to meet you. I had heard great tales of the last son of Krypton, here on Earth.”

Clark smiles, a little bashfully, and takes a sip of his drink. “They’re probably exaggerated.”

“And yet you did come back from the dead,” she notes. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Arthur exhale over his coffee and then head off to bother Bruce.

“Only because of them,” Clark says, nodding to the rest of the room at large. “I don’t suppose the Atlanteans ever had contact with the Kryptonians, did they?”

“Oh, we did, many years ago. Before…” Mera pauses, taking in the deep sadness behind the set of his smile. “Everything that happened. I’m sorry about—”

“It’s okay,” Clark says quickly. He offers her a small smile, weighed down with burdens. “It wasn’t your fault. Did you ever meet any of them yourself?”

“You want to know if I knew your parents?” Mera asks and he hesitates a moment before nodding. “I did know your mother, if briefly. Back when she was Lara Lor-Van, before she married your father. We were both much younger, then, but I was only a child.”

Clark’s eyes widen, hope flickering behind the glasses. “I know it’s rude to ask a lady her age, but…”

Mera smiles. “It was about fifty years ago. Atlanteans and Kryptonians both live longer than humans, although we have nothing on the immortality of the Amazons, of course.” She thinks back to that day, shadowing Queen Atlanna as she visited Krypton to make sure all their alliances were still secure. “She was very kind, even to me, a little girl she didn’t know. A woman of great courage and perseverance, I could tell. And she had your eyes.”

“My eyes?” he repeats, as if he’s forgotten what color his eyes are.

“Blue,” Mera tells him softly. “Like the ocean.”

Clark looks at her so gratefully, it makes her chest constrict. She thinks of Arthur, and Queen Atlanna, and how he only knew his mother as a faraway queen who abandoned him in another realm. She thinks of how much she had loved and idolized Queen Atlanna, how much of her she sees in Arthur, and how much of her he refuses to admit he has within him.

She turns around to find Arthur in the room, when the alarm bells start ringing and everyone freezes.

“Coast City,” Victor reports. “It’s just humans, but they’re armed to the tooth with these new military weapons. It looks like an assassination attempt on some politicians. Who’s on duty?”

“That’s pretty close to Central City,” Barry says worriedly, sparks flickering around him like he’s getting ready to jet off.

“I’ll go,” Clark says immediately, pulling off his glasses and opening his shirt to reveal his family’s coat of arms beneath it.

“Well, if you’re going you’re probably all that’s needed,” Bruce comments.

“I’ll go too,” says Arthur, and Mera turns to look at him in surprise. “What? You might need back-up. What if those new weapons have Kryptonite in them?” He glances once at Mera, then away again.

“Fair point,” says Clark, although his gaze slides to Mera as well and he looks somewhat unconvinced of Arthur’s reasoning. “You guys monitor the situation here. We’ll call if we need reinforcements.”

“Good luck,” Diana calls as Clark grabs Arthur’s arm and shoots them up into the ceiling, which opens for them to fly out of the cave.

The screen monitors near her light up with their image, showing the two of them hurtling through the skies. Mera watches them go and feels like the winds are hollowing out her stomach as she does.

 

 

 

Clark carries Arthur back inside the Batcave several hours later, both of them looking worse for the wear, but only Arthur sporting a giant, bleeding gash on his side. Mera inhales sharply as the whole team crowds the two of them.

“Damn military,” Arthur says with a weak chuckle. “Don’t worry about me, I’ll be okay.”

“You need medical attention, and now,” says Clark, brows knitted together.

“We have the facilities,” Bruce says, punching in some numbers on a keyboard till a door opens up in the side of the wall. “Take him to the bathroom, we’ll have to wash the blood away before we can disinfect it and stop the bleeding.”

Clark nods and begins to lift Arthur up again, who coughs up blood as he does so. Mera squeezes her way past Barry and Victor and gets to Arthur’s other side, sliding his arm up and over her shoulders.

“I can handle it,” she tells Clark, who looks at her in question. “I know Atlantean biology better than anyone else.”

“You don’t have to,” Arthur murmurs, but she shakes her head and carefully leads him over to the newly-opened door, Clark offering support as they walk.

“Don’t be an idiot,” Mera chides him, waiting for Clark to open the door so she can guide Arthur inside. “This is what being part of a team is about, right?”

He smiles at her, although it looks a little painful. “You definitely caught on faster than me. What’s your secret, princess?”

Mera sits him down on the edge of the bathtub, which is thankfully large enough for him to be seated properly. “Whether you like it or not, Atlanteans are your family, Arthur.”

He goes quiet as she works, but her heart is thudding loud enough that she barely hears Clark quietly close the door and leave the two of them alone. Mera leans over him to turn the shower on and then slowly peels the top of his suit down so she can assess the damage to his body. It’s mostly just on his side, though she can see bruises scattered over the rest of his chest that should fade soon enough. His tattoos stand out, stark black on his warm brown skin.

“Is that what you consider us?” Arthur asks, wincing as she smooths her hand over his bloodied ribs. “Family?”

“You do not have to return the sentiment, but you are my queen’s son, and an Atlantean,” she tells him shortly. Her fingers press into his side and she can see him bite back a groan of pain. “Hold still.”

“I don’t—” Arthur begins, but stops with a sharp inhalation as she calls the water forward from the showerhead to wash over his side. Her hand turns, swirling the water around his wound, and his breath comes out again in a rush as the pain eases.

“Mera,” he says, and waits till she looks at him, his green eyes bright and heartwrenching as they bore into her. “I’m not the queen’s son anymore.”

She stares at him, her hand pressing against the bare skin of his side, now unbloodied. He’s warm, he’s always warm, but when her fingers flutter, she can feel him shiver. Words don’t come to her tongue.

Arthur cracks a smile, his scarred eyebrow going up. “You’re the queen. Forgive me but I think… I think my relationship to the queen of Atlantis is a little different now.”

“A little—” Mera pauses, unable to look away from him. The bathroom suddenly seems too small and too close at the same time, pressing in on her and expanding into space that’s just the two of them in an empty room with the water rushing behind them.

He moves first. The hand he’d had clenched around the edge of the bathtub comes up, cradling her cheek in his palm. His touch is rough, calloused from all his fighting and hunting, but gentle as he traces his thumb over her jawline. Arthur runs his tongue over his lips, looking, for the first time since she’s known him, at least a little nervous.

Mera’s fingers dig into his side and then he’s kissing her, slow and deep and warm, like the ocean on a lazy summer day. He tastes like saltwater and coffee, and his hair gets in her face but even that sensation is nothing compared to the feeling of kissing him. Her heart flips over; her other hand comes up to tangle in his curls, and she presses closer to him until it feels like her whole body is on fire from his touch.

Strange, she thinks dizzily, that a king of the ocean could be warm. He’s still kissing her when there’s a knock on the bathroom door.

“We have bandages if you guys… need them…” Bruce trails off as the door opens and Mera jumps back from the kiss. “Um… sorry.”

Arthur sighs. “Thanks, Bruce.”

Bruce clears his throat, tosses the roll of bandages at Mera, and quickly closes the door.

 

 

 

When they get home, dawn is rising on the next day and Mera feels tired all the way down to her bones by the time they get off the private plan and back to Arthur’s old wooden cabin. It’s a relief to walk through its doors, to be greeted with the scent of dust and the sea, to finally be some place that feels a little more like home than Bruce Wayne’s extravagant underground lair.

Arthur looks at her and says quietly, “You want to go home.”

They haven’t talked about the kiss. Mera curls her fingers into the green coat he gave her, pulling it tight around her frame, and wonders what she can say.

“I don’t belong on the surface.”

He exhales. “I know. I—I know. But this whole… league of justice thing?”

She offers him a smile. “I think it’s a good idea. And I would be honored to help you with it.”

“Okay.” Arthur stares at her for a minute, then says again, “Okay. I appreciate it. You’re… you’re the only one who really… you know.”

“Speaks your language?” she asks wryly, and he flashes her a grin. “Do I need a code name too, like the rest of you have? Aquawoman?”

He chuckles and moves closer, the floor boards creaking under his footsteps. “I think that might give people the wrong impression.”

Mera tilts her head. “Which is what?”

“That we…” Arthur pauses, his gaze darting every which way. “I mean. You saw how the others reacted to us.”

“Us?” she echoes.

Arthur draws his head down. “Us,” he confirms, and she forgets whatever point he was trying to make in his kiss. His beard scrapes, not unpleasantly, against her cheeks as she pushes herself up towards his lips, his arms sliding around her waist to hold her close. She twists a hand into his dark curls and kisses him back with the kind of familiarity she’s been aching for.

He tastes, more than anything, like home. Even if she didn’t know who he was, she could smell the sea on him, the blood of Atlantis. Up here on dry land, she kisses him like she wants to drown. Maybe she does.

“We should—” Mera starts to say when she pulls back, but finds she doesn’t have a finish for that sentence.

Arthur smirks at her. “I agree,” he murmurs, voice low and deep, and then his hands are lifting her up, her arms winding tight around his neck as he carries her through the cabin and into his bedroom.

Mera thinks, a little dizzily, that this could be a problem, this should be something she should stop, there are _so_ many people in Atlantis who are not going to be happy about this—

But he kisses the concerns out of her mind and she lets herself forget the crown, for one night.

 

 

 

She dreams of the sea, the tides rolling over her. Atlantis rising in front of her, the ancient stones and glittering gold city of her heart. Fish swimming in schools around the Atlanteans, a rainbow of colors. The sea floor blooming with ocean flora.

She dreams herself in the throne room, looking up at the statue of Queen Atlanna. Even in marble, she is beautiful, majestic. A true queen.

Mera finds herself kneeling on instinct. And then the statue speaks.

“Is Atlantis at peace?”

She jumps, shaking. Words die before they reach her lips.

“Is Atlantis at peace?” continues the statue of the queen. “So that my son, my heir may run around as he wishes? So that you may join him on the surface and pay no mind to the people of my kingdom?”

This isn’t the queen, it’s nobody, it’s a statue, it’s her mind—and still, she is shaking.

“I cannot force him to take the throne,” Mera says, though it’s hard through the feeling of her heart locked in her throat. “He is half-human, he belongs to both worlds—”

“He belongs to us!” the statue thunders. “And now he belongs to you.”

“He doesn’t,” she tries, desperate. “He won’t.”

“My dear Mera,” and this isn’t the statue, this is the queen herself, floating before her, made of skin and bones and covered in the green scales of her garb. The woman who took her in when her parents died. Her queen. “I had hoped you would be his salvation. His anchor in Atlantis. Ruling side by side with him.”

“I—” Mera swallows. “No, that’s not true. You wouldn’t use me like that.”

The queen’s green eyes harden into sea stone. “If you don’t bring him back, where will you stay? Up on the surface, with the tribes of man? Swimming in the sea, around and around your true home, as he does? What kind of a queen are you?”

“I’m not a queen!” she cries. “I’m not—I’m trying—we’re all trying—”

Queen Atlanna’s face twists, cold and vicious. “Trying? Like you tried to stop Steppenwolf?”

Her other knee collapses beneath her, sending her to the ground. “I did—” The words are being choked out of her, forcefully. “—my best—”

“Your best has never been good enough,” and now it is not the queen, but Steppenwolf himself, looking down at her scornfully. “Be with him on the surface or leave him for the sea. He doesn’t love you enough to come home. You don’t love Atlantis enough to make him.”

Mera screams and pushes herself forward, the water swirling at her will, rushing towards the image of Steppenwolf, but he only smiles and disappears, and the wave she’d been forming crashes into the statue of Queen Atlanna instead.

The statue falls, crumbles to dust. Mera stares down at it and thinks about family, legacy, home. She thinks about Arthur. She dreams about storms.

 

 

 

She wakes up early, and shivering, even wrapped up in his blankets with his arm draped around her. Arthur’s still asleep at her back, his snores vibrating gently against her. The sun has barely started to rise outside.

Mera slips out of his bed, stares at both her suit and her human clothes, the latter of which are discarded unevenly around the room, and then she picks up her suit. Her hands are shaking so much, it takes her longer than usual to get dressed.

“Going somewhere?” asks Arthur sleepily when she’s finished, before she can take a step towards the door.

Mera turns to look at him, regret and longing battling in her chest. He looks softer, in the pink morning light, less wild and dangerous. “I’m sorry. I have to—I have to go home.”

“Go home?” Arthur repeats, sitting up. “Or run home?”

Mera falters. He’s staring at her like he can see right through her with those green eyes of his, so very like his mother’s, but set in a face that looks at her with something warm and hopeful in his expression.

“I’m not running from you,” she lies.

Arthur swings his legs over the edge of the bed and reaches for his jeans. “I didn’t accuse you.”

Mera watches as he dresses. “I have responsibilities—someone has to rule Atlantis.”

“I wouldn’t ask you to abandon it.” He stands and looks at her and there’s a hint of regret in the way his lip curls, his green eyes glittering like the sea under starlight. He looks at her like he knows they’re on the precipice of something, and she’s about to jump.

“You won’t come,” she says, and can’t stop the hurt from leaking into her voice. “You won’t stay, you won’t accept your birthright. You’ll live half on land and half on sea and I can’t do that with you.”

Arthur’s gaze darkens. “I’m not asking you to. Mera, where is this coming from?”

He reaches her and his hand lifts, touching and then running down her arm. Mera shivers and backs away.

“You don’t understand,” she snaps at him. “You are the _king_. Atlantis needs you.”

“I’m not turning my back on Atlantis—”

“But you _are_!”

Arthur goes quiet, staring at her, searching. Mera meets his gaze and takes a breath, willing herself to stop shaking.

“This… this Justice League of yours… it’s a good idea. For the surface. You six will fight evil and solve the problems of the world of men. But if something were to happen to Atlantis? There are already—there are people who want you to take the throne, and people who are ready to kill you if you do. Who of your friends would come fight for us down in the sea? None of them can do it.”

“I would do it,” Arthur says, gaze narrowing. “I would fight for the kingdom—for you.”

“I don’t want you to fight for me,” she says, and his green eyes flicker. “I want you to fight for yourself.”

“You want me to take the throne.”

Mera rises up and looks him in the eye. “I want you to accept your birthright.”

Arthur looks away first.

 

 

She feels the flying before somebody tells her about it. The sensation is like a plane diving too close to the top of the ocean, a buzzing in the air that warns her of intruders. One of the guards rushes up to her, out of breath, and says, “It’s Superman.”

Mera goes up to meet him. Clark is hovering just above where Atlantis sits, his cape fluttering in the breeze. He turns when he senses her and offers her a smile, magnanimous and kind as always.

“Kal-El,” she says.

He bows his head. “Queen Mera. Do you have a minute to spare?”

“Depends what for.”

“Would you believe me if I said it was League business?”

“Not even slightly.”

Clark chuckles and extends a hand to her. “I won’t take too much of your time, I promise. And I’ll fly you back.”

“I can swim back,” she tells him, but accepts the hand and lets him shoot them up into the sky, soaring over the ocean until he finds an empty beach to land on.

When she stands, more sure-footed now than she used to be, Clark turns to her and opens his mouth, but whatever he sees in her face changes what he’d been about to say.

He asks, “Do you miss him?”

Mera stares at him in amazement, then scoffs. “Did he send you here just to ask me that?”

“No,” Clark says quickly. “He doesn’t know I’m here, I swear. I just—I thought the two of you were…”

“We’re not,” she snaps. “Is that all?”

Clark’s gaze turns a little sad. “He misses you.”

Mera rolls her eyes. “He can come visit.”

“That’s not what I mean. Every time he comes by, he seems… angrier. Sadder. When he was with you, he was…”

“Don’t,” she warns. “I didn’t break his heart, if that’s what you think.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” Clark says quietly.

Mera exhales and looks away. “Whatever he wants from me… it can’t happen while he refuses to accept his duty as king of Atlantis. I don’t expect him to move underwater, I know he lives both on land and in the sea. I’m not trying to change him, I’m just trying to get him to understand that…”

“That what?” Clark probes when she trails off. “That he has a duty to your people?”

“His people,” Mera says. “They are his people. He’s so… he’s such a _loner_. He works on your team, sure, but he still spends all his time wandering. He comes in and out of Atlantis, he never stays long enough to see… to understand why we need him.”

“Why do you need him?” Clark asks gently. “You’ve been doing fine on your own.”

Mera laughs, though not with humor. “Did you know he has a brother?”

“He has a…what?”

“A brother,” she repeats. “Younger, half-brother. You can see where I’m going with this.”

“He wants the throne?” Clark guesses.

“Oh, no, if he wanted the throne he could take it,” Mera says. “I might fight him but I couldn’t stop him. No, what he wants is power. And he can’t have it while Arthur is alive. The birthright is Arthur’s. And… his mother… Queen Atlanna entrusted me with everything she held dear, with the kingdom upon her death. She knew only one of her sons would be a good ruler.”

Clarke exhales, and then sits down on the beach. After a moment, Mera follows, the sand warm beneath her body as she sits cross-legged. Clark looks at her with a half-smile.

“I can’t begin to imagine the complexities of Atlantean royalty,” he admits, and she manages a smile back. “But I do understand him, at least a little. Half human, half not… it’s a strange and terrifying way to live.”

“He’s reckless,” Mera sighs. “You’re not. You control yourself, you do what you must with your powers. Arthur brings people food in the winter and then leaves them for a year. He fights off sea monsters in Atlantis, and then leaves us for the land. He doesn’t… he doesn’t see what he doesn’t want to see.”

Clark is quiet for a moment. “You think he would be a good king?”

Mera laughs. “That’s the worst part. He would be the best king. He’s brave and fearless and cares about people. He might not be completely integrated into our way of life, but every time he comes to the kingdom, he makes people happy. He could keep them safe… his brother couldn’t. I couldn’t.”

“You’re just as powerful as he is,” Clark says.

Mera glances sidelong at him. “I couldn’t stop Steppenwolf. I couldn’t leave Atlantis to fight him. Arthur could. And he did.”

Clark looks out to the horizon, the waves churning with the oncoming tide. “I’ll talk to him,” he promises. “Next time he’s on land.”

She looks at him in surprise. “He hasn’t been around?”

“He drops by but… I think he spends most of his time lately in the sea,” Clark admits, nodding to the water. “Dunno what he’s doing down there, but… like I said, I think he misses you. He doesn’t like admitting stuff like that, but he’s not as cool and detached as he tries to seem.”

Mera smiles in spite of herself. Clark squeezes her shoulder and then he’s off, flying up into the skies until he’s just a dot of red amidst the deep blues. She watches him go, thinks of power, and those who are chosen to wield it, whether they want to or not.

 

 

 

At first, when she walks into the throne room to see him sitting on his mother’s seat, she thinks she’s dreaming again. The whole room is surrounded by the soft glimmer of a bubble he must have created himself.

“Your Majesty,” Arthur greets, rolling his trident in his hands. He flashes her a smirk and Mera exhales in almost-relief that this isn’t a dream, that he really is here.

“Come to visit?” she asks, and tries to hide the edge in her voice when she adds, “After all these months?”

“I would’ve come earlier, but, uh…” Arthur gets to his feet and begins the walk down the dais to her. “I got the feeling you would’ve kicked me out.”

Mera shrugs. “It’s your home, too.”

“Mm.” Arthur glances behind him at the throne and then back at her. “That felt weird, you know?”

“I don’t know, I’ve never sat on it,” she admits, watching carefully as he comes closer to her. “It’s yours by right.”

Arthur breathes out a laugh. “Mera, these past few months… I’ve just been going around the ocean. Swimming in circles. Fighting off hunters and shit. I haven’t even been on solid land in weeks.”

She crosses her arms as he stands in front of her, his dark curls flowing with the water around him. He looks so at ease, in the green and gold, the A at his waist glittering, his trident held in one hand.

“And I kept… I kept ending up back here,” Arthur continues, voice going low and quiet. “Atlantis. I kept wanting to come here. I kept circling around it and convincing myself you never wanted to see me again.”

Mera sighs. “That’s not what I—”

“I know,” he says quickly. His gaze goes soft as he looks at her. “I know it’s not. But you were right. I can’t stay away from Atlantis any more than you can.”

“Is this your way of accepting the throne?” she asks. “Because I hate to tell you this, but it’s not going to be that easy.”

Arthur chuckles. “Yeah, well, things are never easy with me. And I can’t—I have to learn to be both. You’re right. I have to accept my Atlantean birthright alongside my human one. I can’t do that if I’m avoiding you.”

She narrows her eyes. “Who told you to say that?”

He has the grace to look embarrassed. “Diana. But… she used her damn lasso on me first, if that helps.”

Mera suppresses a smile and says, “Okay, go on.”

“I’m not ready to be king,” Arthur admits, and seems to come even closer. “You’re a good and fair ruler. I can’t just barge in here and take the throne. And I have responsibilities on the surface, too… people who need me, cities that are so close to the coast they’re always in danger.”

“I understand.” Mera looks away from him, up at the golden throne that’s sat empty for so long. “I would never ask you to choose. You were born of both worlds, and you belong to both.”

Arthur’s hand drifts across her cheek, so soft it feels like a breeze, and then disappears. Mera glances back at him to see him kneeling before her, his head bowed, golden-brown curls falling into his face.

“Your Majesty,” he says solemnly, “I would ask that you teach me the history of the kingdom, the structure, and how to be as successful a ruler as you are.”

Mera presses a hand to her mouth to hide a laugh. “Arthur, get up.”

“No.” He grins irrepressibly at her and takes one of her hands in his. “I can’t rule Atlantis alone, if I’m ever able to. I need someone like you by my side, to keep me in check, to stop me from being an idiot.”

“I do so enjoy doing that,” she agrees dryly.

Arthur squeezes her hand and presses his lips to the back of it. “There’s a seat at the table of the Justice League for you,” he tells her. “Next to mine. If you’ll take it.”

Mera smiles and touches his cheek. “I will.” She draws her hand down to his chin and tilts his head up to look right at her. “If you can beat me in a match.”

Arthur blinks. “What—right now?”

“Underwater,” she says. “No unfair advantages this time.”

“I don’t think it was that unfair,” he mutters, but he’s smiling as he gets to his feet. “All right, fine. And if you win?”

Mera taps her finger to her cheek. “If I win, you have to streak through the palace. Naked means no trident, either.”

Arthur gapes at her. “Wait, are you serious?”

Mera grins. “You haven’t heard of that tradition?”

“No, I have not,” he says in alarm. “Is that really a thing or are you messing with me?”

“Guess you’ll have to take your chances,” she teases.

Arthur laughs, shaking his head. “All right, princess. You and me, let’s go. But first—”

Before she can pull back to get in a fighting position, he steps forward, winds an arm tight around her waist, and kisses her so soundly she forgets her name for a moment.

“Cheater,” Mera breathes when he breaks the kiss to smirk at her. “You’re trying to distract me.”

Arthur grins. “Is it working?”

“You’re going down,” she tells him, and shoves at his chest so he swims backwards, still laughing even as they both drop into fighting stances.

 

 

 

“So, like, totally naked?” Barry asks her as the moon rises and the flames of their bonfire dance higher and higher into the sky. The rest of the beach is quiet and peaceful, abandoned by other humans so they can celebrate their latest victory in peace.

“Totally naked,” Mera confirms, stretching out her legs so the waves wash up to her knees. They’re warm tonight, lazy with the summer evening, and they feel comforting on her bare legs. “And it’s a pretty big palace.”

“Man,” Barry sighs. “Wish I could’ve seen that. Hey, do we have any footage of Atlantis?” he asks over his shoulder, to where the others are gathered around the bonfire.

“No,” Arthur grumbles with a glare in Bruce’s direction. Mera glances back at him and smiles. He makes a face at her. “Stop ruining my reputation, Mera.”

“Oh, you don’t need help with that,” she tells him as Victor and Diana start laughing. “You do just fine on your own.”

“Some queen you are,” he mutters, but he walks over to her anyway, pushing at Barry with his foot until he makes space. “Go bother Clark,” he adds to his teammate.

Barry grins widely. “Hey, if I were to bet you—”

“ _No_.”

Barry sighs but takes the hint and speeds off to interrupt Clark and Lois’s conversation, leaving Arthur and Mera by the sea. Arthur sits down with a deep huff and offers her a bottle of whiskey to match his own.

“I’m beginning to regret asking you to join the League,” he tells her as she grins and pops open her bottle. “All you do is make fun of me.”

“You make it so easy,” she teases. He snorts and takes a gulp of whiskey. Behind them, Victor starts playing music on an old radio and Diana and Clark begin singing along to the lyrics. The sounds of music and laughter lift up into the night sky, surrounding her on all sides.

“Are you happy?” Arthur asks suddenly, his voice going soft under the cover of the singing.

Mera looks at him in surprise. “With you?”

He shrugs. “In general. With all this—the League, and Atlantis, and just… everything. Working side by side with the human world, saving both at the same time.”

Mera smiles and beckons at the water with a finger. A burst of it jumps up at her command and splashes onto Arthur, making him splutter in protest.

“Don’t be stupid,” she tells him as he pouts at her. “If anyone can bring Atlantis and Earth closer in harmony, it’s you, Arthur. And I’ve never been happier than I am helping you do it.”

A smile crosses his face. “I just wonder sometimes… if it was easier before,” he admits. “Before the Justice League, before I had to be the Aquaman for the whole world… we had a good thing going, didn’t we? The queen and the wandering king?”

Mera raises her eyebrows. “Less kissing.”

“Oh, yeah,” Arthur agrees. “That was definitely a bummer.”

“It was your fault,” she tells him.

“How d’you figure?”

“You were an asshole and I didn’t want to kiss you.”

“Wow, right in the ego.” Arthur clutches a hand to his chest. “If I recall, you weren’t very nice to me either, princess.”

“Because you called me princess when I was a queen!” she says, but she’s trying not to laugh.

“Sorry,” he grins, and leans over to her. “Force of habit. You know I love you.”

Mera sighs as his lips press gently to her forehead, then trail down her face to her mouth. “Arthur Curry, you might be the most maddening king of Atlantis I have ever seen.”

Arthur wraps an arm around her waist and tugs her into his side. “But you love me?”

Mera rolls her eyes and tilts her head up to kiss him. “But I love you,” she agrees and he smiles brilliantly down at her.

“Hey, we agreed no making out at our parties!” Victor calls from the bonfire.

Arthur groans. “Oh, just because you’re not getting any—”

“We are _not_ having this argument again,” says Diana firmly as Mera ducks her head into Arthur’s chest to hide a laugh. “Would you two just come dance with us?”

“Only if Bruce does!” Arthur says, and successfully sets off a round of the entire team trying to cajole Bruce into a dance.

He glances back at Mera with a grin and gets to his feet, offering her a hand. “May I have this dance, my lady?”

She takes his hand, his calloused palm sliding under hers and intertwining their fingers, and lets him pull her close, feeling his heartbeat in his chest for just a moment before he spins her out and towards the bonfire, where the rest of the team is already dancing. Mera smiles as they join in, and listens to the song on the radio and Arthur’s singing with his teammates and the rhythm of the sea all together.

“I love you,” he tells her as the song fades into a new one, and his green eyes are solemn even as a smile threatens to split his face. “If I haven’t told you that yet today.”

“You tell me that every day,” she says, and Arthur grins as she leans up to kiss him. 

Behind them, the ocean continues to surge, waves cresting and falling in the moonlight. Atlantis, she thinks, for the first time in a long time, might sleep peacefully tonight, knowing that its king and queen are happy.

 


End file.
